


a love that's overgrown

by MooksMookin, spacegirlkj



Series: Oihina Week [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Set in early 1900s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22262125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooksMookin/pseuds/MooksMookin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: Silence punctures the room before Oikawa clears his throat, rustling in the sheets. “Who— who are you?”Hinata’s stomach drops, heat rising to his face. “Ah— I’m Hinata Shouyou, your new handmaid. I’m sorry if this was out of line, Oikawa-sama, but I heard you yell and I—”“No,” Oikawa says, voice much clearer, louder, taking Hinata by surprise. “Thank you, Hinata. People don’t often come to wake me from my nightmares.”-Hinata becomes a personal servant for a wealthy recluse, and happens to fall in love.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Oihina Week [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/501097
Comments: 15
Kudos: 354





	a love that's overgrown

**Author's Note:**

> DAY THREE: HISTORICAL
> 
> this is extrememly loosely based on/inspired the 2016 film the handmaiden, which i LOVE. you dont need to have seen it to understand, and there are 0 spoilers because i had to change like, 85% of it to fit this au into like 5k. enjoy some gays and a whole lotta suggestion
> 
> thank you to mooks as always for betaing this! i love you!

“This is the main house, where you’ll spend the majority of your time,” the head maid says, smoothing down the front of her clothes. She’s dressed humbly, her yukata a simple shade of blue, and gestures widely to the buildings in front of them. “You’ve already seen the kitchens, servant’s lounge, wash rooms, and toilets. Everything in the main house is for use of the family. You’re expected to be respectful, yes?”

Hinata nods, hefting his small suitcase holding his belongings a little higher. He’s dressed in the same wear as her and the rest of the servants on the estate he’ll now be living and working at, having already changed out of his own clothes upon arrival. He enjoys the softness of the fabric— though simple, he has no doubt whoever sewed it took their time. 

The head maid continues leading him down the cobbled path between buildings as they approach the main house. The majority of the buildings are of traditional Japanese design, making the european arches and framing of the main house stands out among the others. 

“It’s Victorian style,” the head maid explains, taking her shoes off as she enters through the side door. “The Oikawa family has a taste for it.”

Hinata tries not to oggle as he slips his sandals to the side with the other servants’, following the maid up a narrow staircase. The house is furnished with dark, ashen wood, lacquered with a resin that makes it shine despite the lack of light in the servant’s entrance. No floorboards creak under their feet as enter a wide hallway on the uppermost floor, a long red rug running from one end to the other. A large bay window lies at the end of the hall, curtains closed to block the daylight from pouring through. Slowly, the maid raises her finger to her lips, beckoning Hinata to a small closet opposite two ornate double doors. She slides the door open to reveal a small, single sleeping bed perched upon a set of drawers, with a lap dangling down from above. Hinata peers inside, noting the absence of spiderwebs and the fresh set of linens sitting atop the bed.

“This is where you sleep. As Oikawa-sama’s personal servant, you answer firstly to him. When you finish your morning chores, you wait for your instructions. Should he need you in the night, he will summon you,” she explains, voice hushed. “His quarters are behind those doors there. He has a frail constitution, so he most often spends days sleeping. See to it that he gets sunlight— his sister requests it.”

Hinata’s eyes dart to the closed doors, imposing and solid in front of him. “Is that all? Should I help with anything else?” he asks, unsure what to do.

The head maid shakes her head. “Your job starts now. I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow morning,” she says, turning on her heel to exit down the hall where she came.

Alone, Hinata blinks, letting a heavy sigh escape him. This is the farthest he’s ever been from home, the longest time away from his mother and sister. As he unfolds the linens and fits them around the small mattress of his bed, he wonders who his new master could be. Becoming a personal servant for a rich, noble, reclusive man living closer to a rural farming town than an actual city was not something he believed was possible. The only job Hinata had ever held was cleaning the homes of average people back where he grew up. The life before him is nothing like the one he lived at home.

Slowly, Hinata begins to empty his things into the drawers, tucking the small photograph of his mother and sister between the wooden panels of the wall so that he can stare at it at night. Though the space is small, it’s comfortable enough to rest in— most likely it was fashioned for a girl, but his short stature makes him a perfect fit for the quarters. Slowly, he lets himself relax, lying down to rest his eyes in the brief respite he has now. It doesn’t last long.

A sharp, broken cry pierces Hinata’s ears, startling him up as his head whips towards the source of the noise— behind the double doors. Without thinking, Hinata bolts towards them, throwing them open and scattering to the bedside of a figure hunched over, head in hands, ragged breaths still shaking through them. The room is near pitch black, and no light shines in from the darkened hall, making the face of Oikawa Tooru hard to see.

“Shh, it— it’s alright,” Hinata whispers, placing his hands on the side of the large, western style four poster bed. Oikawa rocks back and forth, freezing as he brushes up against Hinata’s hands. Slowly, he turns towards him, face obscured by shadow, chest heaving as if still terrified by something near. 

“You’re safe here,” Hinata tells him, trying to control his own anxieties as he reaches out blindly to rest a hand on Oikawa.

Silence punctures the room before Oikawa clears his throat, rustling in the sheets. “Who— who are you?”

Hinata’s stomach drops, heat rising to his face. “Ah— I’m Hinata Shouyou, your new handmaid. I’m sorry if this was out of line, Oikawa-sama, but I heard you yell and I—”

“No,” Oikawa says, voice much clearer, louder, taking Hinata by surprise. “Thank you, Hinata. People don’t often come to wake me from my nightmares.”

Hinata furrows his brow, puzzled by the statement. Before he can ask any questions, Oikawa grabs his hand, pulling it off of what Hinata assumes to be his shoulder— he can’t quite tell in the dark of the room.

“Would you turn on the lamp for me? I’d like to see your face.”

Hinata slowly rises to a stand, letting Oikawa’s hand slip from his hold. From the corner of his eye, he can see light slipping through the cracks the heavy drapes covering the window can’t block. “Why don’t I pull open the curtains? It’s quite nice out today,” he offers, slowly heading that way. 

Oikawa hums from behind him. “Ah, is it daytime already? I must’ve slept longer than I thought,” he muses.

Hinata, still confused at his odd behaviour, pulls open the curtains, letting the sun pour into the room. The window faces the south side of the estate, out towards an elegant set of gardens before the woods that border his property. A wonderful view, one obscured by silk to keep the room drowned in darkness. 

Hinata turns back around, noting the similar decor in the chamber as the rest of the home. “Is that better, Oikawa-sama?” he asks, lifting his eyes to meet those of Oikawa for the first time.

His soft brown hair is tousled from sleep, but waves gently at the ends as it drifts over his ears. Eyes bright and brown gleam in the fresh daylight, almost doe-like in nature. The collar of his yutaka slips off of his shoulder, exposing a lean, willowy frame and pale, unblemished skin. As their eyes meet, a slight smile works its way onto his lips, chapped only slightly as pink in colour. 

_ He’s beautiful, _ Hinata marvels, chest fluttering as Oikawa waves him closer, back towards his beside. Hinata kneels down to bring himself somewhat level to Oikawa, and nearly jolts backwards when his hand rests onto his cheek.

“I think I’d like some tea, Hina-chan. Would you bring two cups here for us? I like green, but you can make yours however you’d like,” he tells him. 

Hinata balks at the pet name, at the kindness, at the gentle touch of the smoothest palm to his face. He can hardly bring himself to nod in response, slipping away in silence with a beating heart that pounds against his ribcage.  _ Hina-chan, _ Oikawa’s voice says, echoing low and soft inside of his skull.  _ Hina-chan _ . His name on Oikawa’s lips, familiar, kind. Hinata closes the door behind him and leans up against it, steadying himself for fear he might faint.

Surviving here may well be harder than he ever thought.

—

Oikawa is not the man Hinata thought he would be. Most days he spends wandering around the estate, sitting in the gardens, or reading in near solitude. None of the other servants interact with him besides slight bows, rushing past to finish their duties and leave him be. It’s Hinata who’s left at his side, watching him sift his hands through the earth as he plucks flowers from the garden.

Oikawa talks to him— something the other servants don’t believe when Hinata tells them.  _ He’s mad,  _ one girl says as they scrub down linens together.  _ In the winter, he howls at night. And he hates visitors. I don’t know how you stand him _ .

Hinata doesn’t know how to explain to them that Oikawa invites him in for tea every morning after he’s brought breakfast, that he asks Hinata’s opinion on what colour haori to wear when he’s being dressed, that he sings to himself and only stops when he hears Hinata approaching. Oikawa is strange, sure, but Hinata doesn’t think he’s mad. Most nights when Hinata ends up at his bedside are spent petting his hair and singing off key lullabies he remembers his mother telling him years ago, the ones he sang his sister when she couldn’t sleep. Oikawa has such soft hair, and drifts off after a few verses, nightmares forgotten until they rouse him again.

It dawns on Hinata one night a few weeks in, as he leaves Oikawa’s room after settling him from a nightmare, that he might be the only person Oikawa ever talks to. No one else lives on the estate permanently, and though Oikawa writes letters that are mailed off each week, no one ever stops by. Hinata lies down on his tiny bed, yanking on a string to shut off his light. Blood pumps heavy in his ears, drowning out his thoughts. Hinata has spent more time with Oikawa than he has alone, has seen him naked, has seen him sobbing. Oikawa has asked him about almost every aspect of his life— his hometown, his family, his favourite foods, his fears— and shared nothing in return. 

And yet, there’s no doubt that he is completely and utterly infatuated with Oikawa, despite every worry. How could he not be, when Oikawa smiles under the morning sun, thankful despite his apprehension to step outdoors? How could he not be, when the late summer rays make his skin glow? How could he not be, when, in the late nights spent bringing him milk with honey to calm his nerves, Oikawa whispers  _ why would you do a thing like this for a person like me _ as if he is worth nothing, and nothing at all?

—

Months pass living in the Oikawa estate. Hinata likes it— likes the gardens, likes the tranquility, and enjoys the work. But with every passing day, he feels himself falling deeper and deeper into the maelstrom that is Oikawa Tooru. It’s hard to maintain a professional distance with his interest growing as it has, harder still when Oikawa asks questions of him as if he contains the secrets of the outside world. Hinata hasn’t been far in his short life— his family never had the means for travel— but from the conversations shared between the two, he gathers he’s seen more in his life than Oikawa has.

It’s an unusually cold day for Oikawa to spend outside, but when Hinata finds him after his morning chores, he’s doing nothing but sitting cross legged on the patio stones, resting his eyes with his head tilted to the breeze. It makes a peaceful sight, his sleeves rustling slightly, his chest rising and falling, the maple leaves drifting down over head. He catches one idly, turning it over in his hand as Hinata approaches from behind, somewhat worried.

“Oikawa-sama?” he says, bristling against the chill. “How long have you been out here?”

Oikawa turns around, eyes lighting up. “Hina-chan! I couldn’t fall back asleep last night, so I thought it’d be nice to watch the sunrise. But it’s so sunny, I couldn’t just go back indoors.” He pauses, eyebrows scrunching up before sneezing, dropping the leaf onto his lap.

Hinata balks for a moment before rushing forwards. “You— you’ve been out here since dawn? Aren’t you cold?” he asks, grabbing Oikawa’s hands with his own. “You’re  _ frozen— _ c’mon, you’re gonna get sick or something!”

Oikawa chuckles, slowly rising as Hinata panics. “Ah, I suppose that would be typical of my weak constitution, huh?” he sighs, dusting his hands off on his yukata. “I’m  _ fine, _ you don’t need to worry.”

Hinata huffs, stubbornly grabbing Oikawa’s wrist. “It’s my  _ job _ to worry about you,” he mumbles, tugging him towards the door. “Seriously, at least wear something warmer if you’re gonna do that.”

They step inside, the interior a relief to Hinata, who hardly spent five minutes outside. Oikawa shoulders drop as they enter, a kind of sheepish realization setting in as his flushed skin begins to heat up. “Mm, you’re right. I was cold.”

Hinata tries not to roll his eyes, continuing to lead Oikawa through the corridors of his own home. “I’m gonna run you a hot bath. I swear, any longer and you’d be ill—  _ then _ what would we do?”

Oikawa hums. “Well, I assume you’d make an  _ excellent _ beside nurse,” he responds, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

Hinata ignores the comment, entering the bathroom with Oikawa on his heels. The western style bath, while much smaller than the others on the estate, is the only one in the main house, and the one Oikawa most often uses. Hinata isn’t a stranger to the motions of drawing him a bath— he sits on the lip of the porcelain tub and fiddles with the golden knobs, waiting for hot water to burst forth and begin to fill the tub. He leaves it be, moving to the vanity to place thing on a tray— various oils, salts, and dried flowers. The least he can do he can do after being so upset, he figures, is make Oikawa’s bath a little nicer. 

An idea pops into his head, one that makes him smile to himself in pride. Slowly, he sets the tray on a stool, ducking out of the bathroom to grab a lolly from his personal things. By the time he’s returned, the water has nearly filled the tub, Oikawa already in the process of undressing next to it. Hinata shuts off the taps and sets the lolly onto the tray, moving over to Oikawa to take his clothes and set them with the rest of the laundry. 

Behind him, Hinata hears Oikawa hiss. He turns around to see him slowly lowering himself into the tub, nose wrinkled as his cold skin reacts to the hot water. Hinata sighs, unwrapping the lolly and handing it to him once he gets settled in the water completely. The expression on his face is one of genuine surprise and curiosity, ghosted by confusion as he turns the red sucker over in his hands, unsure what to make of the gesture.

“You brought candy?” Oikawa asks, cocking his head to the side. His tongue darts out, licking a stripe up the side before engulfing it into his mouth, pressing the sweet against his cheek.

“My mother used to do that for me and my sister,” Hinata tells him, taking a seat on the lip of the tub again, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. He reaches over, stirring up the white, cloudy water with his hand. The dried rose petals flutter, creating ripples in the water as they collide with Oikawa’s knees and the sides of the tub. “She’d give us them during bathtime to keep us quiet, and to teach us that bathtime is sweet.”

Oikawa pulls the lolly from his mouth, making a slight  _ pop. _ “Your mother sounds like a kind woman,” he says. His lips are stained red from the candy, sugar stuck to them. He licks it off, and presses the sucker back to his lips. Hinata tries not to focus on the way his mouth works around it, heat quickly rising to his own cheeks. He busies himself by splashing in a little more oil, mixing it around once more.

“She is. I miss her terribly, but working for you helps her much more than staying in the village would’ve. One less mouth to feed, and she gets most of my earnings when I write to her,” Hinata says. He looks up, meeting Oikawa’s eyes. “Do… do you talk to your mother?”

Oikawa simply shakes his head. “No, she and my father died when I was a child. Tuberculosis. My sister and I lived here, with my uncle from then on.” There’s no grief in his voice, just even acceptance, as if being an orphan were no worse than a rainy day.

“I— I’m sorry for prying, I was just curious” Hinata stammers, bowing his head. 

Oikawa sits up, water sloshing in the tub as he raises his shoulders from under. “No, don’t be. I don’t remember her, or my father, much at all. I might’ve only been three years old.” He pauses, sucking on the candy a moment longer. “It’s lonely, I guess, since my sister got married. My uncle spends most of his time in Tokyo lately. But it’s been much nicer since you arrived. I don’t think you could upset me if you tried, Hina-chan. You shouldn’t worry about things like that.”

Hinata exhales, stunned into silence. Oikawa slips the lolly back into his mouth, and heat rises all the way to Hinata’s ears, burning hotter than the water steaming between them. He’s not sure what to say or how to react to Oikawa’s candid nature beyond pure shock, flustered further by the way he chooses to run the lolly along the length of his tongue. Oikawa’s eyes never leave his own, staring unflinchingly at him even as Hinata gulps on spit alone.

Oikawa pushes the sucker back into his mouth, only to suddenly wince, bringing his hand up from under the water to press to the side of his cheek.

“Are you okay?” Hinata asks, leaning in as Oikawa takes out the sucker, running his tongue along his teeth with a note of displeasure in his features.

“I chipped my tooth the other day. The edge was sharp enough to cut my cheek, it seems,” he explains, looking put off. 

Hinata chews on his lip, standing up. “Wait there,” he tells him, hurrying over to the cabinet. It takes a few minutes of rifling through drawers to find a thimble stashed in a tiny sewing kit. He takes the small metal object and places it over his thumb, resuming his place on the tub’s edge much closer to Oikawa. He leans over, careful not to drape his sleeve in the water, and rests his free hand on the other side, looming over Oikawa in a way that leaves him looking up for once. 

“O-open your mouth,” Hinata tells him, raising the hand with the thimble. Oikawa complies, allowing Hinata to cup his cheek and slip his thumb into his mouth, grating the thimble along the ridge of his teeth until he finds the chip. Slowly, he begins to grind at the tooth, using the rough edge of the thimble like sandpaper. It’s not a quick process by any means, and Hinata quickly becomes aware of their proximity— the heavy, warm breath on his hand; Oikawa tongue brushing against him involuntarily; the large, brown eyes, half lidded now, staring at him as if he were the only point in space. Hinata swallows again, adam’s apple bobbing, and inhales the floral scent clinging to Oikawa’s skin from the bathwater. One glance down reveals skin coloured pink after hours spent outdoors, much warmer now but still delicate, revealing his temperament. Hinata’s eyes linger on his chest for longer than they should, at the muscles Oikawa has managed to retain, and the one scar by his shoulder that stands out like a seam against otherwise markless skin. The only other sound, besides the rapid beat of Hinata’s heat, is the scratch of the thimble on his tooth.

Quickly, Hinata recoils, dropping his hand to his side. “A-all done,” he announces, watching as Oikawa licks his lips before shutting his mouth and feeling over the tooth for himself. He hums in assent, bringing the lolly back up to his lips.

“Thank you, Hina-chan. You always know how to help,” he says, smiling gently. “I wouldn’t believe you if you told me you’d never held a position like this before, but I know that to be the case.”

Hinata shrugs, plucking the thimble off of his thumb and setting it onto the tray. For some reason, he doesn’t wipe Oikawa’s spit from his hand, simply folding it in his lap, ignoring the cooling sensation on his skin. “I— I don’t think it matters. I had experience in other places.”

Oikawa chuckles, shoulders shaking as he sinks deeper into the water. “Other places, hm? Did Hina-chan get lots of  _ experience _ back in his village?”

Hinata furrows his brow. He thought he told Oikawa about his various jobs before coming to the estate. “What are you saying?”

At that, Oikawa laughs, grin breaking out as he shakes his head. “You’re a darling, you know that, right?” he says, meeting Hinata’s eye again. “I was talking about experience with others. Sex, mainly. You don’t have to answer, I was just curious.” 

Hinata sputters, his face well and truly red as he breaks Oikawa’s demanding gaze. “I— I— I haven’t done  _ anything _ like that before,” he exclaims, eyes darting to the door.

Oikawa sloshes around, tilting his head again. “Really? I thought, you’re quite pretty and awfully sweet, there must’ve been a girl who caught you eye before. Or a boy, if that’s what you like.” He pushes his feet up against the very edge of the tub, leaning far enough back to wet his hair with his face still floating above the water. “I never hear about romance. I write letters to my sister, but she and her husband are  _ boring _ now that they have a child— it’s all about him now. I thought maybe you’d have a dashing romantic tale to endear me— you have so many others.”

Hinata coughs. “I— I’m sorry to disappoint,” he says, unsure what else to say. 

Oikawa’s eyes soften. “You could never disappoint me,” he whispers, smiling gently. “You can always ask me something.”

Stunned by his openness, Hinataclears hus throats. “A-about romance?”

Oikawa shrugs. “It’s been a long time, but… there was someone. Once. I was a teenager, and he was one of my tutors— young, handsome. I idolized him. But whatever we had wasn’t enough to make him stay,” Oikawa tells him, not particularly invested in his own story. “It’s difficult to find love when my uncle— when I stay here.” His eyes trail up and down Hinata’s face. “But I don’t think it’s impossible.”

Hinata’s heart picks up speed, beating faster before he can help it. Oikawa continues to stare at him, petals stuck to his skin, pulling the world so close to the point where only they exist. Unconsciously, Hinata finds himself leaning forwards, wanting to be closer _ , closer _ , and closer still. Slowly, Oikawa shuts his eyes, sinking deeper into the water, body relaxing into the heat. Captivated, Hinata doesn’t leave his side, not until the water between them grows cold. 

—

Oikawa’s uncle arrives to the estate on a rainy day, the only announcement of his arrival being the forgien sound of the combustion engine in his car. Hinata pauses in the motions of changing Oikawa’s bedsheets, turning to where he sits, just out of reach of the sunshine. He reclines on a small loveseat, the novel he was once engrossed with set down as he turns to the window in confusion. Neither he nor Hinata expected his arrival, or had any inkling to the reason for it.

His uncle does not knock when he enters. Oikawa is already waiting for him at the foot of the stairs when he steps inside, Hinata a few feet behind, watching tension grow in Oikawa’s broad shoulders as a man. He’s not unlike Oikawa in appearance, both sharing a similar jaw and nose, but they hardly seem kin from the way they approach each other, void of smiles or friendly greetings.

“Tooru, I hope you’ve been well,” he says, setting an umbrella down by the door.

“Uncle,” Oikawa replies, nodding his head. His hands tremble ever so slightly as they make their way into the parlor, leaving Hinata to stand like an echo in the foyer, listening to the murmurs between the walls. For all of its grandeur, the main house has many holes for spying, and all it takes is the press of Hinata’s ear to the wood door to hear them begin to speak.

“Is there a reason you’ve decided to visit so suddenly?” Oikawa asks. Hinata thinks he hear the scratch of a chair being dragged along the floors as someone sits. 

“Can a man not visit his own home?” his uncle replies.

“As I  _ recall _ ,” Oikawa spits, the venom heard even through the muffled walls. “My father left this estate to me in his passing.”

His uncle laughs. “This house is repayment for the debt your father owed me. You know as well as I that any courthouse would believe my word over a will from two decades ago presented by  _ you,  _ a half crazed—”

“I’m not crazed!” Oikawa shouts. Hinata jumps back, holding his breath as sweat drops from his brow. “And if I were, it’d be your fault and you know it.”

“Tooru, there’s no need to bring this up— not when I have happy news,” his uncle groans. “I’ve finally found you a suitor, afterall.”

“I don’t need a suitor,” Oikawa snaps. Hinata hears footsteps moving to the door, posing to bolt before they halt. “Why would a  _ crazed recluse _ marry?”

“You’ll accept the proposal if you want to stay here. If you’re too unwell to marry, then it’s off to the sanitorium with you,” his uncle replies, voice level, drawled. “Neither you nor I have the deed to this house. It’s one man’s word against another’s. Stop your senseless apathy and earn back what your father lost or I’ll do away with you entirely.”

Silence falls over both parties before Oikawa chuckles. “The deed, huh?” he says, voice quieter. “How long before I need to accept?”

Hinata’s heart drops into his stomach. The words beyond the wall become murky as he takes a step back, then another, then another, the idea of Oikawa having anyone’s hand in marriage,  _ anyone else’s hand besides his own— _

Hinata isn’t sure if the swelling in his chest is jealousy or terror. He doesn’t wait long enough to find out, rushing away from the parlor and upstairs, to the confines of his own shoe box quarters. There, he stares at the picture of his mother and sister, and wonders if all of this has been some kind of mistake.

It hasn’t— he knows that. He knows that the days spent telling Oikawa how to make tea and watching him struggle on his own, the days spent sharing lullabies and songs from the records kept in an old chestnut crate, the days spent sleeping at his bedside for fear he might wake up crying  _ uncle, not again, not like last time _ are worth all of the ties being severed in his heart. Through the inky haze of emotion, a small piece of rationality shines through:

He loves Oikawa. And leaving would never change it.

—

It’s late that night, after Oikawa’s uncle has left, when Hinata is awoken by the familiar sound of Oikawa’s screaming. As if nothing has changed, Hinata darts from his room to Oikawa’s bedside, stroking his hair until his eyes open and the dream fades, reality a thin veil that surrounds them both. Hinata sits beside him, dipping into the mattress, and lets himself be pulled into Oikawa’s arms, breathing slow in contrast to the short, violent inhales Oikawa can’t seem to control. 

“I’m here,” Hinata whispers, assuring him gently. “I’ll always be here.”

A rough voice breaks through the whimpers, dampened by the fabric of Hinata’s shoulder. “Do you mean that?” Oikawa asks, turning his head up to look at him. He’s left the curtain open, and moonlight pours in, illuminating the twin tear tracks slipping down his face.

Hinata can feels his heart knotting in his throat, can feel his own composure start to break. “Of course I mean it,” he whispers, suddenly feeling very small in Oikawa’s arms. “O-of course I would never leave. I can’t leave you, I won’t ever stop being close to you like this. I could never stop caring for you the way I do. Even if you have a suitor. Even when you’re married. I’ll be here when you call, Oikawa-sama. I want to be here for you.”

Oikawa reaches up, cupping Hinata’s cheek. “How did I ever survive before you arrived?” he says, before bringing his forehead down to rest against Hinata’s. “How could I ever marry someone who isn’t you?”

Hinata’s widen, his fear melting away, body floating in disbelief as he stares up at Oikawa. “You— you want to marry me? But the estate— the deed—”

“My father’s will contains the location of the deed. With them both, no courthouse could deny us,” Oikawa explains, holding him tighter. “If we leave in the morning, we’d make it to town before it closes right?”

“You’d go into town? You’d leave?” Hinata says, shocked. “But your fear—”

Oikawa shakes his head. “I can do it if we go together. You make the possible impossible,” he tells him. “Even making a mad man like me leave the one place where he felt safe.”

“You’re not mad. Just hurt,” Hinata murmurs, leaning into Oikawa’s touch.

Oikawa closes his eyes. “And you’re the place that makes me feel safe now. Not a house. You.”

Oikawa’s lips are soft as they brush upon his own, just for a moment, just long enough to still Hinata’s heart and wrap it up in his own. The moon bathes them in the glory of their own love, the reality that they are only meant to be their own people, to hold their own hearts in their hands. Hinata sleeps there, with him, next to him, on a bed built for two that has long held only one, wrapped up in arms and legs and love that stretches beyond the boundaries of the four walls it grew out of. This love overgrows like a garden untended, free to blow in the cool breeze and wild enough to ensnare what they both know hurts. Hinata holds that hurt, holds Oikawa, kisses him and doesn’t pretend like he hasn’t felt loved this whole time.

—

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell ive been studying hamlet
> 
> wanna talk about oihina? hit us up on twitter @mookzymooks or @lesbianiwaizumi! or leave us a comment!


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